


Worst wedding, best wedding night

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: First Meeting, Lust at First Sight, M/M, WinterFRE 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: Prompt Fill 136: "You’re the photographer, I’m the best man, this wedding is a cluster-fuck let’s get out of here."Ross is best man at his cousin's Francis' wedding and the cute photographer is the only good thing there.





	

This was one big mistake. Ross should have known. He should have declined the offer to be best man.

At church, everything was still more or less ok. Elizabeth had looked a bit wan, not her usual radiant self, but she held herself with poise and grace.

Francis was already tipsy, but managed to stand straight, speak the right words at the right moment and the congregation could not see Elizabeth having to pinch Francis to stop slobbering her face.

When they left church, things got more difficult. The photographer snapped some pictures of them leaving the church, which was good. But then Francis wanted to get into the car and drive to the reception. Ross had to hold him back and tell him that they planned to take more pictures. Francis asked why he hadn’t been involved in the planning, because _he_ didn’t need any more pictures. Elizabeth said sweetly, but a bit tersely, that she’d like some pictures of everyone in front of the lovely church.

Francis glared at the photographer and told the poor man to get on with it. Of course it took some time for everyone to arrange themselves for the picture, the photographer (whose name Ross had forgotten) keeping his smile with superhuman patience while Francis, George’s uncle Carly and Charles chided him for being too slow, too vague and overall not skilled enough to arrange an unruly group of wedding guests for a group picture in an efficient amount of time.

Ross made sure to offer the man a ride in his own car to the hotel where they held the reception.

“I’m sorry about that, mate,” he offered in the privacy of his car, shared only with Dwight and Henshawe. “Francis isn’t such an arse usually.”

“No worries, weddings are always a bit stressful.” The dimples. Ross nearly crashed his car because his quick gaze to the man next to him was arrested by dimples.

“Let’s hope so. But this might turn out to be the most awful wedding you’ve ever had the misfortune to attend. I’m Ross, by the way. I’m sorry, your name slipped my mind.”

“Jim. Pleasure.”

That voice. Not even Elizabeth’s voice was this pleasant. Ross violently suppressed his urge to start flirting, particularly with Dwight and Henshawe listening in. Instead, he promised to ply Francis with alcohol to agree to more pictures.

*

It needed alcohol, Charles’ scolding, Mrs. Chynoweth’s scolding disguised as good humoured ribbing and Ross’ promise of organising a card game later to get Francis to agree. He looked like a sulky teenager in all poses, Elizabeth so furious with him that she stood like a stiff statue of disdain. Beautiful memories. Through it all, Jim remained polite and Ross was eternally grateful for his quick way of working and his silence. It was Mrs. Chynoweth who kept suggesting new poses and new locations and Jim was just going along with it, even those which were clearly a bad idea.

Still, Ross was sure he didn’t imagine the sigh of relief when Charles and Mrs. Chynoweth decided that they were done. They all repaired back to the hotel building and dinner could begin.

Elizabeth was not talking to Francis and lavished so much attention on Verity, that the poor girl didn’t know what to do. Elizabeth had never been so concerned about Verity’s well being and doings before. Mrs. Chynoweth was talking too much, as was Charles who entered into a bragging tournament with Mr. Chynoweth. 

Francis was sulking and asked why nobody consulted him over the wedding menue. Ross didn’t point out that Francis had point-blank refused to bother with such trifles beforehand. But he had the suspicion that Francis was sulking because Elizabeth had picked seafood salad as a starter, a dish they were all aware was one of Ross’ favourites.

Ross held his speech after the starter, never alluding to his own past with Elizabeth, just telling some light episodes about Francis’ childhood and adolescence which made Francis appear in a good light, and some of which hinted at common interests with Elizabeth.

It had cost him to write this thing. And Elizabeth smiled at him for it, and Dwight looked very proud of his friend.

Even Francis seemed a bit mollified and contributed in the conversation over the Main Course. That contribution consisted, unfortunately, of how he was looking forward to Verity’s future wedding once she was lucky enough to find somebody.

Verity was luckily too shy to hit her brother in public, but from her pinched look Ross could tell it was a close thing. Her boyfriend Andrew was not invited to the wedding and his existence ignored by Francis and Charles.

After the main course, Mr. Chynoweth took it upon himself to rectify Ross’ omission by pointing out what a generous friend the groom had in Ross, who agreed to be best man to the wedding of his ex-fiancée with his cousin and best friend.

When Francis got up, having had too much wine, Ross felt a feeling of dread settling into his stomach. And yes, Francis did talk at length about being jealous of Ross, and being so happy Elizabeth decided on him, and how it was the first time he beat Ross at something.

He laughed and toasted Ross as he said it. How Ross managed to raise his glass in response and force a smile, he didn’t know.

When Francis sat down, Aunt Agatha remarked to somebody at her table that she didn’t understand modern girls at all, how could Elizabeth have ditched Ross?

Unfortunately, Aunt Agatha was already very deaf and everyone could hear her remark.

Ross hurried to the DJ table to beg him to turn up the volume of the music, while dessert was served.

Because this was his life, it turned out that the reason the music was so quiet was that the sound system was fucked. Hotel staff were clueless as to how to repair it, a confused young man just promising to call somebody who’d be able to help. Which would take time Ross nerves weren't sure he had.

And then, like an angel in thin disguise, Jim the photographer appeared at Ross’ side and located the problem within 2 minutes.

Five minutes later horrid pop music, selected by Ruth, the bridesmaid, blared through the dining hall, drowning out all embarrassing conversation.

“Cheers, mate, I owe you a drink!”

He shook Jim’s hand maybe a bit too enthusiastically. But Jim smirked, his blue eyes twinkling.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he promised with a wink.

*

The Chynoweths had put £200 behind the bar, the idea being that after that money was spent, guests had to pay for their own drinks. It wouldn’t last long, Ross could tell, everyone tried to take advantage by ordering something expensive.

He spent a gruelling hour dodging George’s barbs and bullying Francis into dancing with Elizabeth, which included enduring a rant entirely too many people could overhear, about how Elizabeth would much rather dance with Ross and why had she married Francis at all. Elizabeth said she would prefer to dance with anyone who wasn’t as drunk as her dear husband but this was the done thing and he would dance with her.

Their dance was so terrible, both of them tense and trying not to be too close to each other, that Ross hastily snatched Ruth, dragging her to the floor to indicate that everyone was free to dance now. He tried not to fall into her cleavage (he was only human), and endured her inane chatter.

The second dance he danced with Verity, enjoying a heartfelt discussion about the indignity of it all, and watching George dance with Elizabeth. Why George thought it was appropriate to make his admiration for Elizabeth this obvious at her bloody wedding was beyond Ross.

Verity though thought it would be hilarious if Elizabeth eloped with George on her wedding day. She was seriously angry with her brother. But they smiled for the camera when Jim came along; it wasn’t hard to smile for such an angelic being.

Verity laughed when Ross described Jim as such. After the dance she gave him a hug and whispered in his ear how happy she was that he got over Elizabeth and told him to go for that cutie.

That cutie was probably already married, but he didn’t say that to Verity.

Instead, he left her with Aunt Agatha and went in search for another drink and for Dwight, possibly the second sane person here.

But Dwight stood in a corner with Caroline Penvenen and they looked quite cosy, so he went to the bar alone, dodging Unwin Trevaunance. 

A sign on the bar said that wedding guests had to pay for their own drinks now.

Just as he ordered a large beer, Jim put his camera down on the bar next to him. He smiled up at Ross.

“Can I take you up on that offer now?”

“Sure.” Ross signalled the barkeeper. “Whatever you want.”

“Cheers.” Jim ordered another large beer. “May I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“You were right. This is one of the most awful weddings I’ve been too.”

Ross laughed. “I tried to warn you. What happened?”

Jim shrugged. “Just saying. I’m actually paid to do this, you know, so …”

“So you don’t dare to tell me who annoyed you. But I can guess.”

Jim grimaced. It must have been hard to snatch pictures of the happy couple considering how unhappy that couple was.

Mrs. Chynoweth and Charles had been badgering the poor photographer the whole evening too, insisting he took pictures of specific groups, dragging people who were just having a nice conversation in front of the camera. Particularly those people who were vaguely influential. Unwin Trevenaunce, the Tory MP, was only too happy to be photographed often and considered himself an expert in giving photographers specific instructions.

Once Ross got his beer in his hand and had taken a big, calming sip, he looked around. Everyone was getting drunk, small fights were already breaking out at the edges, Francis and Elizabeth were at opposite corners of the room.

“You know what? This wedding is a clusterfuck. Let’s get out of here.”

Jim lifted the camera. “Um … I’ve got a job to do.”

“And you did it beautifully. Let them just party now.” He gestured up with his beer. “My room's quite big and it’s got a minibar. Let’s go.”

Jim looked around.

“Who could say no to that. You’re the best man, you can just release me, right?”

“Right.”

Ross winked. He was actually sure he could; he doubted anyone would actually notice Jim’s disappearance anyway. He had taken enough pictures.

*

But to make their flight from the reception slightly less conspicuous, Jim asked for his room number and stayed for 15 more minutes, snapping a few more pictures.

Ross waited impatiently for the knock on his door, using the time to undo his tie and lose his jacket. With a quick look in the mirror, he tried to arrange his locks.

Then the knock came, firm and short.

Ross opened and there Jim was, holding his camera in one hand, a fresh bottle of beer in the other and smiling.

“This is a nice room,” he remarked, sitting down on the bed uninvited, his camera put down on the side board.

“Yeah …” Ross stood between the door and the bed. What to do now?

“So …” Jim seemed a bit flushed now too. “Won’t they miss you? You know, you’re the best man and all that?”

“I think I’ve done my duty.” Ross rolled his eyes, annoyed enough to plop down on the bed next to Jim. “I’m sure George will be all too happy to fill in for me.”

“The one who’s flirting with the bride?”

“Yup, that’s him.” Ross shrugged. “Bastard.”

“The bride certainly is popular.”

Ross scowled. “Look, can we … can we just forget about that?”

“Sorry, mate.” Jim looked sufficiently contrite. “It was a shit move from the others during the speeches, though.”

“All right, look … to satisfy your curiosity … I was engaged to Elizabeth, then I took a job overseas, just temporary, she fell for Francis in that time and … well. I’ll get over it. In fact,” he said resolutely, smiling at Jim. “I am over it. I'm ready for whatever likely lass or lad comes my way.”

He winked at Jim. If the man refused him, that could not actually ruin this evening any further. But Jim just smiled angelically, letting his finger trail the rim of his can.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Ross dared to move closer towards Jim, and when Jim didn’t even flinch, he put his arm around his waist.

“I’m not attached to anyone either,” Jim confessed, closing the last bit of space between their thighs. Through the thin fabric of their dress trousers, Ross could feel the warmth of Jim's body.

His breath stopped for a moment, then he lifted his hand to smooth stray strands of blond locks back behind Jim's ear. It felt like wild silk.

“I’d very much like to kiss you right now.”

“You’re forward. I like that in a man.”

Jim put his can down on the dressing table and turned towards Ross, sliding his arms around Ross’ waist and tilting his face up. That was all the invitation that was needed, Ross crushed his mouth on Jim’s with a fervour fuelled by his suppressed anger from the entire evening.

Jim gasped into his mouth, but pressed even closer until he was practically in Ross’ lap.

Things became heated quickly, Jim tearing at Ross’s shirt, Ross letting his hands slide under that luscious bottom. He was already hard when he released Jim, so they could tear each other’s shirt off, staring at each other, panting.

Just when Ross' reverent fingers touched Jim’s chest, covered in dark blond hair that was just an invitation to play, his phone beeped. They both froze.

“Get it,” Jim said, when neither of them moved.

Ross groaned with displeasure as he picked it up. From Francis.

*U prom missed me a cad game. When nd were?*

Right. That did it. He resolutely switched the phone off and turned back to Jim.

“Now, where were we ….”

***

When Ross switched the phone on again in the morning, he had several more messages and a couple of missed phone calls. He ignored them all and instead handed the phone to Jim to put in his number.

This wedding had indeed been a cluster fuck. But he was willing to bet that his “wedding night” had been a lot more satisfying than Francis’. And he would take Jim out again the very next weekend. Fortune had, after all, smiled at him at this wedding. He probably should mention that in his thank you note to Francis and Elizabeth. Once he and Jim had snuck out of the hotel.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Again, this was written rather quickly (I am trying to challenge myself to write as much as possible for the WinterFRE), so if you find any mistakes I'd be grateful if you could point them out :)


End file.
